


Of Mothers and Sons

by torestoreamends



Category: Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Angst, Gen, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child Compliant, Hurt/Comfort, Malfoy Family Feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-25
Updated: 2018-02-25
Packaged: 2019-03-23 20:11:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,337
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13795416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torestoreamends/pseuds/torestoreamends
Summary: Albus stumbles upon Scorpius reading to his mum by Firecall one night. It’s the first time he’s really been exposed to Scorpius’s sadness about his mum’s illness, and he doesn’t quite know what to do about it.





	Of Mothers and Sons

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally posted as an addition to [this heartbreaking art](http://upthehillart.tumblr.com/post/171235574501/of-mothers-and-sons-astoria-scorpius-2007-and) by upthehillart, but I quite liked it so thought I’d give it its own post!

One afternoon, before Albus and Scorpius really talk about Astoria, Albus comes into the dorm after lessons to find Scorpius sitting by the fire with a book. He’s reading aloud, and at first Albus thinks he’s reading to himself, but then he sees the head in the fire.

Even when she’s mostly flame and coal and ash she looks tired and sick, and Albus knows – he can just tell – that she’s been upset, which is why she’s here and why Scorpius is talking to her. Her eyes are closed and her head is on one side as she listens to Scorpius read. It’s easy to imagine her lying on the hearth, struggling to stay awake as she’s warmed by the flames and lulled by Scorpius’s soft voice.

Albus tiptoes through the dorm and sits on his bed, intending to get on with work, but he finds he can’t not listen to Scorpius as he reads. His voice is wonderful – gentle and soothing, but engaging at the same time, and he does the most beautiful character voices. Albus gets drawn into the story, and he’s as disappointed as the two Malfoys seem to be when Scorpius turns the final page.

There’s a long silence before Astoria opens her eyes and sits up, exhaling softly.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, and Scorpius nods.

“That’s okay, Mum.” He closes the book, keeping his eyes on the pages for a long moment before he looks at her, like he doesn’t want the moment to end, like he knows that moments like these are limited. “You should go and sleep,” he says. “It’s important. But maybe I’ll visit this weekend and read to you properly.”

“That would be nice,” she says with a tired smile. “But if you have work you need to do... I’m not more important than school.”

Scorpius swallows and strokes his hand over the cover of his book, and Albus knows he wants to argue with that, but he doesn’t.

“I’ll see you,” he promises.

“Then I’ll look forward to it,” Astoria replies.

Scorpius nods. He puts the book down and scoots forward, leaning on the hearth with his hands and knees, so he can get as close as possible to her without being burned. He reaches out a hand, like he wants to try and reach through the flames to her, but then he pulls his hand back and sits on his heels. “Go and rest. I hope you sleep well, and…” he swallows. “And feel better.”

There’s a long, awful pause, in which the hollow futility of those words consumes all the light and warmth in the room, and Scorpius bows his head.

“I will,” Astoria says gently, and Scorpius nods.

“O-okay. Love you, Mum. See you soon.”

Then the fire dies from flickering rose red down to a dull, dying orangey brown, and Scorpius curls in on himself, shoulders shaking as he starts to cry.

Albus sits frozen on the bed, unsure what to do with himself. He wants to go and comfort Scorpius but he doesn’t even know if Scorpius knows he’s here. He doesn’t know if he’s meant to be seeing this. It feels horrible intrusive, and for a moment he considers making a break for it and pretending he didn’t see anything at all. He slips off the bed and starts tiptoeing towards the door, but as he does Scorpius sniffs and lifts his head.

“Hello, Albus.”

Albus freezes. “Hi,” he breathes. “Sorry I- You know, I didn’t mean to-“

Scorpius shakes his head and twists round, wiping his eyes. “It’s okay. Hi. How was Charms? I sort of got…” he gestures to the fireplace. “Waylaid.”

“I took notes,” Albus says, twisting his hands together, still frozen on the spot.

Scorpius nods. “That’s good. Can I borrow them later?”

“Of course!” Albus says. “I can’t really show you what we did, because I’m rubbish at it, but I think it’s meant to be simple so you’ll be fine.”

Scorpius nods. “Okay.”

A long, awkward silence stretches between them, in which Scorpius wipes his nose on his sleeve, and Albus wonders if he can make an excuse to run away. But that would be cowardly, and Scorpius is his best friend.

He takes a deep breath, then pads across the floor and sits down opposite Scorpius, cross-legged in front of the fire. Scorpius looks at him, uncertain, eyes red and watery.

“Do you- do you do that a lot?” Albus asks, voice shaky with fear. He doesn’t know if he’s allowed to talk about this. Maybe it’s meant to be an unspoken non-secret between them. Maybe their friendship doesn’t stretch here. “Read to her?”

Scorpius looks down at his knees and swallows, and for a second Albus thinks he might refuse to talk about it, but then he takes a breath and nods. “Sometimes,” he says. “I-it’s nice. For both of us. She used to read to me when I was little, so now I like to… to return the favour.”

“That’s a good thing to do,” Albus says, because he doesn’t know what else to say.

“We like the same sorts of books,” Scorpius continues. “The ones with lots of adventure and things. And since she sometimes gets too tired to read for herself… I like to help.” He glances up at Albus. “No one should be without books and stories.”

Albus nods. “You’re a good reader.”

Scorpius smiles and picks at a hole in the toe of his emerald green sock. “Not as good as she is.”

“She’s older than you,” Albus says. “She’s had a lot of practice.”

“She taught me everything I know,” Scorpius says.

He looks so small, with his hunched shoulders, messing with his sock, head bowed. He looks skinny and pale and tired. Albus so rarely sees how much his mum’s illness is getting to him, but right now it’s written across every inch of his body. He’s weighed down by it. Albus wishes he could help carry some of that weight, but he doesn’t know how. He doesn’t know what to say or do. He doesn’t know how to be the friend he should be.

He reaches out and bumps his knuckles against Scorpius’s wrist, trying to lend the tiniest bit of support. He wishes he could hug him, but doesn’t know if that’s allowed.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs.

Scorpius sniffs and shrugs his shoulders, pushing them and lifting his head, masking some of the physical symptoms of his grief. “It’s okay,” he says. “It’s… it’s okay.”

Albus wants to say that he knows it’s not, and that that’s alright, that he’s there if Scorpius ever wants to talk about it, but he’s not brave enough, so instead he takes the easy way out. “Would a sweet make you feel better?” He asks, pulling a couple of Fizzing Whizbees out of his pocket.

Scorpius’s sombre expression melts into a smile. “That shouldn’t even be a question,” he says. “Of _course_.”

Albus hands him one, and quickly the serious conversation is swept away on a wave of sugar and giggles and denial. Scorpius stops crying and starts smiling. He looks less pale and exhausted. He goes bright and bouncy, the way he always does when sweets are involved in anything. But between all that, past the easy fix of the sweets, Albus catches the moments when his eyes go sad and dull, when he stops laughing and gazes at the fire for an instant before snapping back to bubbly happiness.

 It’s all a thinly painted veneer. Fragile and fracturing. And Albus knows that as a friend he’s terribly out of his depth, but solving this is impossible. He can’t heal Scorpius’s mum or roll back the years to give her more time. All he can do is provide a momentary distraction, which isn’t good enough, but it’s what he has in his power. So he tries to ignore the deep heartache that he can see poking through Scorpius’s mask, and focuses on pretending that everything is okay…


End file.
